


Reflections

by orphean



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s04e18-19 In a Mirror Darkly Parts 1-2, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:19:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphean/pseuds/orphean
Summary: After reading about their counterparts in the Defiant database, Trip Tucker goes to see Malcolm Reed.





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> Being set in the mirror universe, this is obviously violent and morally reprehensible, but warnings might still be helpful. 
> 
> Warnings: choking, power play, swearing, a little bit of misogyny, references to murder.

Charles Tucker found Malcolm Reed in the armoury. He was kneeling in front of a torpedo tube, tools in hand, working intently. Trip studied him: the furrows in his face, deep and unforgiving; his narrowed eyes, always analysing and chasing; that aquiline nose, like a hawk’s, hunting for its next prey. The red of the Defiant uniform seemed too bright on him, so far removed from the black of the MACO uniform he always wore.

‘What do you want?’ Reed didn’t look up. The words were laced with distaste.

‘Have you been looking at this ship’s database?’ Conversational, casual – even attempting politeness.

‘Of course I have. How else do you think I got any of this operational? This is like nothing we have.’ He threw him a glance as sharp as the tips of his daggers, still strapped to his belt.

‘Sure, sure. I’ve been doing some reading.’

‘Didn’t know you could do that,’ Reed muttered and reached into the torpedo to disconnect something. ‘Never finishing school and all that.’

Trip bit his cheek.

‘The biographical files are _very_ interesting. I decided to look at yours. It – _well_! Do you remember Hayes?’ Reed didn’t reply, but he didn’t have to. Of course he remembered Hayes. So did Trip. In particular, he remembered his throat, slit, and captain Forrest’s hands bloodied when Reed shook them to accept his promotion. He remembered Reed’s grin, face split in half, and the splatter of blood over his nose like freckles. ‘The other you didn’t even _try_ to kill him. Seemed to have lorded over you like a real bitch.’

‘So?’ Reed had clenched his fists, knuckles white with the pressure.

‘Still died, though. Saving Forrest’s slut.’ Trip leaned against the wall, arms folded. Anyway, that wasn’t what was most interesting. In that other world, you and I were friends.’

‘So another Malcolm Reed, who is not me, was a coward and had bad taste. What’s it to me?’

‘That other you were in love with me.’

Reed moved with amazing speed. The spanner hit him over the face before he could move. Reed’s forearm clamped down on Trip’s arms, pinning him to the wall. There was a sharp _clang_ when he let the spanner fall to the ground. The metal was cold against his throat, the tip of the dagger digging into his skin. Reed was close enough that his breath was hot on Trip’s face, so close that he could count each eyelash falling heavy over furious eyes. Close enough to kiss.

Trips plan had been – really, the plan was not been very well-thought out. After he had read his counterpart’s file he had moved onto Reed’s because surely what he'd read  _couldn't_ be right. But everything he found in the other Tucker’s file was backed up by Reed’s, including pictures of the two, happy and thick as thieves. Reed, without any venom in his smile. Tucker, with an unruined face. So he thought if he told Reed, well, maybe his reaction would provide a distraction from waiting for the diagnostics to finish, which meant that Trip couldn’t get any work done anyway. He hadn’t really considered what Reed’s reaction would be. Violence he had expected; that their bodies would be pressed this close together he had not expected.

Perhaps Reed hadn’t expected this either, as he shifted a few inches, taking a half-step back so their legs no longer touched. If Trip wanted, he could have taken advantage of his moment of hesitation and kicked his leg. It might have panned out, but it was just as likely that Reed would jab the knife into his throat. Instead, he swallowed. He felt the prick of the knife cut into his skin. It wasn’t a bad cut, barely piercing the skin, but Trip suddenly felt dizzy. Fuck, the knife wasn’t poisoned, was it? Reed exhaled and glanced at the knife, taking in the bead of blood that must be running down the edge.

‘Like I said,’ his voice was low and coarse like metal filings, reverberating through Trip’s body, ‘bad taste.’

He did not move. Neither of them did.

‘Don’t worry.’ Trip swallowed again, pushing his head up to prevent another nick of the knife. Between Reed and the wall, there wasn’t much room. ‘The other Tucker had equally bad taste.’

‘Really?’ Reed sheathed his knife but didn’t move away.

‘Yeah.’ Trip licked his lips, perhaps because they were dry, but maybe because he wanted to see Reed’s reaction. A sharp intake of air. ‘He had it just as bad for you. Pathetic, really.’

Reed’s breath was heavy, eyes still wild.

‘Pathetic,’ he agreed.

Then, a few things happened at once. One was Reed’s hand wrapping around Trip’s throat, pressing hard against his oesophagus. Another was Reed’s body pressing closer to Trip’s, flush against each other. A third, and by far the most terrifying, was Reed’s mouth on Trip’s.

Trip fought. He fought for breath, for control, for dominance. Each time he tries to match Reed’s ravenous bites with his own viciousness Reed pushed his palm harder against his throat. _Behave_ , the movement said. The world was fading for him, the half-seconds of oxygen Reed allowing him not enough, and he stopped fighting. He would never admit this to anyone, and definitely not to Reed, but he enjoyed giving up. He liked the loss of control, the domination. He liked the almost-death that he hoped, oh he hoped, would lead to the little death.

‘You filthy bitch.’ Reed had relieved the pressure on his throat and let go of his hands, moving his hand down. Trip gasped for breath, both for the sudden oxygen but also for the hand that was pressing against his cock. Of course his body would betray him, hard and needy for this. ‘You like this.’ Reed was smiling, the same grin Trip had seen after a killing. It was a smile with far too many teeth. He tried to keep his breath steady, tried to think of anything to say in response, but Reed’s fingers pressed down on him and he had to bite his tongue. ‘And you don’t even have anything to say for yourself. Let’s put that mouth to a better use.’

One slap, then another. The blows stung and Trip remembered that he should be fighting, that however much he wanted to lose, he had to pretend to resist. He clipped him over the chin, splitting his lower lip. Reed touched the red of his mouth and spit in Trip’s face before he landed a kick against his shin. His legs buckled and he fell to his knees. He reached up and wiped away the blood and spit from his face, meeting Reed’s gaze. Reed looked down on him like a mako shark honing in on its dinner.

‘Hands behind your back, Commander. Be good and I won’t have to restrain you.’

Trip obeyed. It was too late to object. No, he didn’t want to object. Reed ran a hand through his hair, pulling his head back. Trip kept his eyes locked on Reed’s face, fascinated to see the shift of his sneer from derisive to desire. One hand still in Trip’s hair, his other reached down to undo his trousers.

It wasn’t that Trip hadn’t done this before. There were many ways to advance in the fleet and getting your hands dirty was just one of them. He had always found the violence a little distasteful – effective, yes, but never really how he wanted to succeed. If his skills as an engineer were not enough to sway the powers that be in favour of him, offering himself up could tip the balance. But he was smart about it, never blowing men he would have to see again, taking care to choose his targets.

This was not being smart. This was really, _really_ not smart.

He kept his hands clasped behind his back and opened his mouth.

Trip’s hair was too short for Reed to wrap around his fingers, so his nails dug into his scalp, keeping him in place. There was no gentleness in the way he shoved himself down Trip’s throat and no sympathy when he sputtered against the movement. Trip focused on the few things he could control: breathing in short, controlled bursts; keeping his hands where Reed had ordered them; staying as silent as possible. Reed didn’t make a sound. When he came, he came without a whimper, only with sudden stillness and that salty taste in the back of Trip’s throat. Reed’s fingers were just barely shaking when he let go of him, quickly pulling his uniform pants up again. Despite his first thought to spit, to use this small act to show how little he respected the major, Trip swallowed. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and wondered if his legs would hold him. Reed looked unsteady, too, his usual mask of quiet contempt slipping. He was leaning against a work table, staring at Trip.

‘Get up,’ Reed said, his voice – was it? – nervous. Trip stood, flushing under Reed’s stare, and he was painfully aware of how hard he was. Reed’s eyes flicked down, and he was aware of this, too. ‘Keep your hands behind your back. Turn around.’

The cold of metal snapped around his wrists, Reed’s calloused fingertips warm in comparison.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Collateral,’ Reed replied, his breath hot and ragged against his neck. ‘Up against the table.’

Reed navigated Trip to the workbench he had been leaning on moments earlier: Trip up against the table; Reed up against him.

‘It’s only fair, isn’t it?’ Reed’s hand was pressing against his crotch, a sneer spreading on his face again. ‘You do me one, I do you one. No favours to come back and bite me.’

He kissed him again, if this fury could be called kissing, biting down on his lower lip as he undid his pants with experienced hands. Trip tried to meet the onslaught with kisses of his own, but Reed’s hand on his cock was distracting, his fingers stroking him with long teasing strokes. Trip couldn’t prevent the groan slipping out.

The slap burnt against his cheek and his hand squeezed his cock.

‘Be quiet,’ Reed ordered. His fingers, delicate but rough, ran over the length of him, grazing over his head. Trip closed his eyes. ‘Don’t speak. Don’t move. Or I’ll make you regret it.’

Trip felt Reed’s fingers briefly press down on his throat again before the hand disappeared and, moments later, he felt Reed’s tongue lap against the head of his cock. He squeezed his eyelids shut, the red of his blood swirling in the darkness, Reed’s mouth making any coherent thought impossible.

It had been a long time since the last time anyone had done this to Trip – T’Pol had certainly not deigned to – and it had never quite been like this. Reed moved with purpose and speed, hollowed cheeks and teasing tongue. The fist wrapped around him moved just off-rhythm with his mouth, pushing and pulling him maddeningly towards climax. He pressed his palms against the table, the handcuffs digging into his wrists. He bit his tongue and kept his eyes closed, allowing the orgasm to build.

Trip came with a shuddering breath, every muscle in his body turning to putty. Reed stood up and turned his head, spitting cum and saliva onto the floor. A small, still rational, part of Trip was surprised he didn’t spit in his face again. An even smaller, much less rational, part of him was disappointed that he didn’t.

‘That didn’t take you long,’ Reed remarked. With Trip leaning against the table, they were the same height, and Reed’s face was close to his. The disdain had returned to his face, and his smile was hard. ’But we have work to do, don’t we?’

Reed undid the handcuffs in silence and moved away as soon as they were off. The torpedo he had been working on was between them now, and Trip watched him as he massaged his wrists. He always took his work so seriously. Did the other Reed do that, too? Was that why the other Trip loved him? He pushed the thought aside.

‘Do you need a hand?’ he hadn’t meant to offer his help, but somehow, there it was. Reed scoffed.

‘We’re not friends, _Commander_. Now piss off.’ Trip turned to leave, stopping when Reed called out after him. ‘If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.’

Trip believed him. He touched his throat, running a finger over where his knife had grazed him. He wondered if Reed’s fingers had left bruises, and if they had, if anyone would ask about them.

‘Don’t worry, Malcolm.’ Reed bristled at the familiarity of his words, but he didn’t say anything. ‘I can keep a secret. See you around, Major.’

Trip left and wondered if they would do this again. If the other universe was anything like this one, they would. It was a pathetic world full of weak men, just as Reed had said, but Trip found himself thinking that maybe this – maybe Tucker-and-Reed – was worth pursuing. It might kill him, but in the Terran Empire, everything had a risk. Perhaps this was one worth taking.


End file.
